


Ruin My Life

by Xazz



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Boys Kissing, Cuddles, Demisexuality, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, canonverse, flangst, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: Altair has always been a bit strange. Sees too much, knows too much, doesn't say much. But he's got a friend like Malik who understands his idiosyncrasies. So what else could he ask for?





	1. Sun for the Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooooo  
> I wrote some more  
> I started just wanting to write some soft intimacy with AltMal and now it's a few chapters. The first few chapters are fairly short but w/e. I'm still just enjoying myself
> 
> And again all written all on an iPad so don't @ me about grammar or spelling unless it is REALLY bad as I'm doing my best :,)

Seven Years

The sun was bright but in the middle of winter it wasn't oppressive. Not this time. Altair felt nice in the sun. It was a rare day the novices were allowed out of the fortress. Under the watching eyes of several prefects and their friends. Altair didn't know that this was more of an exercise for the prefects and journeymen than it was a day off for the young novices. Keep an eye on the children.

After running around with the other kids his age Altair collapsed under a tree tiredly. A few minutes later a prefect stalked by to make sure he hadn't collapsed from sun sickness or chill. Seeing he was fine he moved on. Altair's breath was little puffs of clouds above his head. It was just cold enough to see your breath and that was very exciting for him and the rest of the kids. What a novelty!

His head twitched and he looked over when someone came and sat down next to him. “What are you doing here?” Malik asked.

“Resting,” Altair said. Unfortunately he was a bit runty for his age and couldn't always keep up with the other kids. His father always told him to just do his best but he didn't need to compete with them.

“That sounds,” Malik laid down as well, “like a good idea,” he huffed as he flopped down.

Altair watched the leaves of the trees in serene silence. He liked the silence. The sounds of his friends and the other kids sounded far off. He blinked slowly, tiredly, and his eyes changed. He smiled. The tree seemed even more alive now, the leaves shimmering and he could see the slow drift of the wind.

“This is so boring. How can you just lay here?” Malik’s voice jolted him out of the serenity.

“Well you don't have to stay,” Altair said.

“Then c’mon,” Malik grabbed his hand and tried to get up. “Come play some more.”

Altair pulled back. “No. I want to stay here.”

“But it's boring,” Malik protested.

“You were barely still. Give it a chance,” Altair said.

Malik made a face, not convinced. But he did sit back down and laid down next to Altair. “How do you do it?” Malik asked him.

Altair squeezed his hand. “Look up at the branches. Aren't they cool?”

“I guess they're kinda cool.”

“Watch the leaves move in the wind. Listen to how they sound,” Altair said calmly, talking Malik through it to hopefully reach that serenity he had earlier."Focus on one leaf and watch how it moves with the rest of them.” Altair squeezed Malik's hand again.

“I guess,” Malik said. Altair blinked and looked at him. Malik wasn't looking at the tree. He was looking at Altair.

“You don't have to stay if you don't want to,” Altair said.

“No. I'll stay with you. Even if you do have weird ideas of fun,” Malik huffed and changed his grip on Altair's hand so their fingers were threaded together.

“Okay,” Altair smiled at him and went back to looking up at the tree.


	2. New Best Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter was very short so have a second one. Prepare FOR SOME FEELS
> 
> Also my time line is a bit muddled on things but I didn't feel like looking it so we're going by the seat of our pants on when Umar died ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Eleven Years

After four days Malik found Altair. No one had seen him in days. The instructors were at a loss, none of the prefects could find him and Al Mualim was surprisingly furious he'd just disappeared. Malik knew he'd been around. Showing up for meals sometimes and like a wisp in the common room, passing through around the edges of the room. It was easy to miss him. Altair was good at not being seen if he didn't want to be seen.

Malik had gotten an errand from one of the instructors. One of their year mates was with his parents down in the village for some days, sick. Malik was to go check up on him, see if he was well enough to return to classes. He'd done that and found Jalil well enough to be playing with the family dog, meaning he was playing hookie. Malik agreed not to tattle on him if he did Malik’s chores as well as his own when he got back to the fortress for a few days. Once he'd made sure that was done he went down the road to the mosque.

This time of day there was no one there save for an imam wiping the walls so they were free of dust. Malik went and looked in the alcoves and like he knew he found Altair curled in a book with a book nearly as wide as he was. He looked up when Malik passed in front of his light and paled.

“Malik,” he swallowed.

“Found you,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “You been down here this whole time? Al Mualim is furious you disappeared. He's got all the hall prefects keeping an eye out for you and even some of the adults.”

Altair looked down, hunching into his book. “I don't want to be there,” he said softly.

Malik sat next to him. “What’s the matter?” he asked. That wasn't like Altair. He normally liked the fortress. He even liked the training. Malik thought he was weird for it but he was just good at it. People couldn't choose what they were good at so Malik didn't question. But Altair just didn't disappear.

“My father,” Altair looked down and Malik was surprised when he saw tears spring to his eyes. “And uncle Ahmad,” he stubbornly wiped a trickle of tears from one eye.

“Abbas’ father? What about him?” Malik knew about Altair’s father. He'd been killed some weeks ago. Altair had acted so unaffected by the entire thing. He hadn't even cried. At least not where anyone could see.

Altair curled away from him a little. “I’m not supposed to tell,” he whispered.

Malik grabbed his hand. “You can tell me,” he said, “I’m your friend.”

Altair looked at Malik and Malik was startled when he just burst into tears. “Uncle Ahmad killed himself in front of me because he felt guilty about my baba,” he said thickly.

“He what?” Malik’s eyes were wide.

“He killed himself and Al Mualim told me not to tell anyone,” he blubbered a bit.

Malik just stared and didn't know what to say. He just stared, feeling helpless. “Is that why you've been hiding?” Malik asked him.

“I miss my baba,” Altair was still crying and pulled his hand away from Malik's. “And now my best friend hates me,” he meant Abbas. “I didn't do anything and he hates me because his father is gone. He thought I had something to do with it and I can't tell him,” he cried into his book.

Malik took the book so he didn't ruin it. That would get him a good smacking if he returned a book back to the library with tear ruined pages. And the last thing Altair needed was that. Malik hugged him. Altair hugged him back, not so quietly crying into his shirt. “I’m sorry,” Malik said. “I know how you feel. I miss my baba too.” Malik and Kadar had been orphans since Kadar was barely old enough to walk. Kadar didn't even remember their parents and it was harder and harder every year for Malik to remember what his omy looked like, what his baba’s voice sounded like. He wasn't sure he missed them anymore. He didn't remember them enough to miss them.

He just let Altair cry a little. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I got your shirt all wet,” and he sheepishly pulled away and used his own shirt to wipe his face and puffy eyes. He was still sniffling but not as much as before.

“Do you feel better, telling someone?” Malik asked.

Altair nodded. “But you can't tell anyone, Malik. If you do I'll get in so much trouble with Al Mualim.”

“I won't tell,” Malik promised. “And you don't need Abbas.”

“But he's-

“He’s annoying and smelly. I'll be your best friend now. You don't need him,” he talked right over him.

Altair blinked his big amber eyes at him. “What? You will?” he was so confused. It was sort of cute. Like when a cat was confused by something.

“Yeah. Who doesn't want more friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Altair nodded,

“Don’t cry over smelly Abbas. And his dad was really horrible doing that to you. I'm sorry.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Our instructors always tell us a burden is better shared. So now we are,” Malik patted his arm.

Altair sort of smiled, it was a half there thing. “Yeah. I guess,” he swallowed and rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You need to come back home,” Malik said. “The longer you're gone the worse it will get.”

“Al Mualim is mad,” Altair looked down.

“Yeah but it'll be okay,” Malik promised. “I’m with you now.”

“Thanks, Malik,” he sniffed.

Malik got up, taking the book with him. He offered his hand to Altair. “Let’s go home,” he said. Altair eyed his hand a moment before grabbing it. Malik pulled him to his feet and gave him a one armed hug. Altair grabbed his hand and held it the entire way back up the mountain to the fortress.


	3. Too Much Quiet In the Loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having a lot of thoughts about Eagle Vision people lately and... It'd be cool if their eyes reflected eyes like a cat's eye and that's why they can see IN NEAR PURE FUCKING DARKNESS.

Fifteen Years

In the lower part of the fortress there were novice halls. It was several rooms where four to six boys bunked together per room when they were children. When you got older and your friends either died (not as uncommon as you'd hope) or they were shunted off to other duties young journeymen moved to the other side of the hall where they shared a room with one other and it mimicked how many assassins roomed. Between them was the common room. Which was only really used between dinner and curfew as the rest of a novice’s day was heavily scheduled to allow almost no free time, especially as they got older.

Malik was the prefect for his hall. You got that job by being the hall monitor’s favorite, responcible, or just well liked by those in the hall. Malik was the second one as his temper didn't make him anyone’s favorite and he'd certainly scared more than one five year old more than once with his temper.

Children were just awful. He hoped he never had any.

Malik had to make sure everyone was in their rooms at curfew and even not asleep that the lights were out in an attempt to sleep. And he'd taken to doing another round about an hour later to make sure no one had lit a lamp. If a hall monitor came by and saw light under the door Malik would be the one in trouble. And he hated being in trouble.

On his way to go to sleep Malik realized a shadow in the common room wasn't what he was expecting. He paused and raised his lamp a bit to cast a wider glow. “Hey,” he said to the figure sitting on the low couch, hiding, “You can't be out here. It's lights out,” he used his sternest voice. But the teenager was old enough to be his age or maybe a year or two younger. The stern prefect voice didn't always work on them. He was friendly with all his year mates and they usually told him to fuck off when he tried to be a prefect to them: assholes.

“I know,” he frowned hearing it was Altair. He'd be in extra trouble if Altair was found out here by a hall monitor. Al Mualim was all weird about him and had even spoken to Malik, rather kindly actually which had surprised him, to keep Altair in line now that he was prefect. It didn't even occur to Malik he'd been made the hall’s prefect because he was one of the few people Altair actually listened to. Sure didn't listen to the adult hall monitor.

“What are you doing out here? You're going to get me in trouble,” Malik said approaching him.

Altair tipped his head back as Malik came up to the arm of the sofa so he could look at him upside-down. For a moment his eyes appeared to reflect the lamp light like a cat’s and Malik hesitated. “Hard to sleep,” he said.

“Well do it in your own room,” Malik huffed.

“I can't,” he said, closer to the light now his eyes were normal and Amber.

“Why not?” Malik rolled his eyes a little even as he humored Altair. This wasn't the first time he'd seen the trick of the light from Altair's eyes but this was the first time he'd been so close.

“Abdul Adl isn't there now,” Altair said quietly. Malik's hand drooped a little. Abdul Adl had been Altair's roommate. He'd fallen badly from a building and cracked his skull open. Other than Malik he'd been perhaps the closest boy in their classes to Altair. Or at the very least was patient enough to live with him. He'd died several days ago and while neither of them had been there or seen it they'd heard. A boy in their class said his brain has been splattered across the stone, his face smashed beyond recognition. “Hard to be in there without him. It's too empty,” Altair’s words were quiet and Malik sighed a little, looking down at him.

“Well you can't stay out here, Altair. I will get in trouble if someone finds you out here. Have you been out here the past few days too?” Altair nodded. “You just like making my life difficult, don't you?”

“No. I just… don't like to sleep in an empty room.”

Malik looked around the barren common room sarcastically. “This is pretty empty.”

“Only in bodies. The essense lingers,” Altair said. Malik was by far more than used to Altair saying wild shit like that by now. Malik wasn't even fazed. “It isn't as empty as my dorm,” he said.

Malik huffed grumpily. Malik didn't have a roommate. He'd moved to Homs months ago to be a new helper to the elderly Dai there. He'd rather been enjoying it. But Altair was so quiet…

“Well you absolutely can't stay out here or sleep out here. You can stay in my room. Nadim was sent to Homs. I have a spare bed now.”

Altair looked up at Malik, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. If you can't sleep without someone else in the room like a weirdo you can stay in Nadim’s old bed. Just so long as you aren't out here.”

“Oh— I guess that would work. You don't snore do you?”

Malik bristled, “I do not!” he cried. “You better not either.”

“I don't,” Altair said and sat up. He unfolded off the sofa.

“Just come on,” Malik grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the common room down the short journeyman hall to his room. Altair opened the door since Malik's other hand was busy holding the lamp. He finally released Altair hand once they were inside and turned the lamp up a bit to see better.

The room was sparce. Two beds with trunks at the foot, a desk between the beds against the wall and one chair with shelves against the walls. The side Nadim had slept on was completely empty except for a bit of Malik's clothes on the bed. Malik put the lamp on the desk and gathered up his clothes and dumped them on top of his trunk. “Okay, now go the fuck to sleep,” he said.

“A gracious host as always,” Altair said and sat on Nadim’s old bed. It was still made from when he'd been there and Malik had no inclination to mess it up. You had to keep the bed made or the prefect talked to you and it'd be bad form for Malik to be a hypocrite.

“Stop complaining,” Malik sat on his own bed. They both took off their slippers and Malik was surprised when Altair took off his shirt. Malik slept in a night gown like a proper person. Altair slept shirtless. He stared for a few seconds but it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. He scratched at the one scar he had on his chest, over his collarbone where an adult had decided to teach him a proper lesson in respect with a sword and really dug into him. It, of course, had done nothing but made Altair more annoying or highlight the rest of his flawless, unscarred skin. Malik’s chest and arms had a myriad of small scars, scratches, and blemishes from training or falling or just being an idiot. Altair never got hurt. That was the only thing worth looking at too, that he just had flawless skin. Malik and every other one of their year mates was not a little jealous he was good enough to keep away from sharp edges like that.

Altair undid the bed a bit to get under the blanket. Deep in the fortress as they were there was always a chill. “Goodnight,” Altair said. “I really hope you don't snore.”

“I do not! Allah!” Malik huffed and got into bed as well. He turned down the lamp to the barest flame but not so much it'd go off, just so it wouldn't burn as much oil.

“I’ll let you know in the morning shall’n’t I?” he could hear Altair's shit eating grin even if he couldn't see it.

“Shut up and go to sleep before I smother you with that pillow,” Malik huffed loudly. Altair chuckled and there was silence.

Malik was just starting to go out when Altair went, “Malik. You still awake?”

“Barely,” he grumbled tiredly.

“Thanks for letting me stay in your room,” Altair's soft drifted from across the room through the velvety darkness. “You’re a good friend.”

That made Malik feel all warm inside. “You’re welcome. Now go to sleep,” he yawned. Altair didn't answer so Malik took that that he was alseep too and quickly followed suit.


	4. I Know The Way You Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that good good sports anime trope where two people kinda fall over each other and their faces are real close? 
> 
> Yeah 83

Seventeen Years

The heat of the forge was more than a bit oppressive. Malik didn't know how the smiths did it all day in the heat. He was getting a grip made for his new sword and the smith needed a print of his hand to make sure it worked well for his hand. It was part of getting your whites, you got a short sword built for your grip with the perfect balance for your hand. The master smith was measuring Malik’s hand and getting an impression on soft resin of his grip for it. It was pretty tedious and boring.

He was just standing around waiting to be of use again when he heard a commotion coming from one of the side training rings. He cast his eyes across there to see what it was.

In the ring a journeyman was fighting several assassins. It took him a few moments to realize it wasn't sparring so much as the journeyman beating the shit out of them. He watched and heard the yelling from the ring and the longer he watched the more he realized… that wasn't practice. Something was wrong. He paid more attention to what who it was. There was only one man in the grays who could do what was happening now.

Malik stepped away from the smithy. “Hey, young Malik, don't-

“I’ll be right back,” Malik said and didn't run but jogged quickly over to the ring.

The sound of clanging blades grew louder as he got closer and he saw the reason for the commotion. There was one of their year mates on the ground, bleeding heavily. Malik didn't recognize them immediately but he could piece together what had happened. Altair had been practicing with their friend and it had gotten more than a little out of hand. But they'd made a mistake. You didn't attack Altair while he was fighting. He'd just fight you too, and not realize who it was or why. He'd just fight. And even against three assassins he was winning.

“Hey! Don't go in there,” someone said as Malik climbed over the ring’s barrier.

Malik had fought Altair enough times to be able to anticipate his movements. He could see the shift of his stance and the movement of his arms and where they would be even from the back. He came up behind him while he was fighting someone else and with a sure motion grabbed his wrist as fast as a viper’s strike, knowing where Altair's arm would be before it was even there.

That got Altair off his center of balance for a moment before swinging around with the intent to jab Malik with a knife hand strike to the throat. Malik had only seen him use that move about a hundred times against several of their year mates and himself and knew how to deflect it. He leaned back and allowed himself to fall, dragging Altair with him. He never expected that, lost his balance and tumbled to the ground with Malik. Malik smacked the ground as he hit the dirtto absorb the impact.

Altair’s face was close as he was on his knees over Malik. Malik watched his dilated pupils contracted as he was able to focus on what was actually happening and not just lost in the trance of of the sword. “Malik?” he asked, very confused.

“Hey. You back with us?” he asked and looked over his shoulder. The adults were completely ignoring them and had rushed over to their friend bleeding on the ground. Altair looked as well.

“Did I do that?” Altair asked, his sun darkened skin paling. He pushed himself up a bit, “Is Jamir okay?” he asked. He was ignored.

“He’ll be fine. Your practice swords aren't very sharp,” Malik said. Altair looked back at him, eyes wide in shock.

He looked down a little. “I did it again, huh?”

“Yeah,” Malik said.

“Shit,” Altair muttered.

“Altair.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you get off me now?”

Altair looked down and realized he was practically sitting on him. “Oh. Sorry,” Malik let go of his wrist and scrambled off him to standing. He offered a hand to Malik and pulled him to his feet. Jamir was gone, rushed away to the infirmary. Altair rubbed the side of his neck. “I’m going to get it for that,” he grimaced.

“Nothing you haven't heard already,” Malik said.

“That doesn't mean I like it,” he complained, arms drooping dramatically. Altair was such an overdramatic teenager sometimes. It was funny.

“Altair!” he stiffened when someone barked his name.

“Yeah. You're in trouble,” Malik said, looking over his shoulder at a very angry looking instructor.

“Shiiiit,” Altair handed Malik is bloodied practice sword. “Wait for me?”

“What else would I do?” Malik asked, their hands brushing in the exchange of the practice sword.

“Thanks,” he sighed, tired already and Altair wandered off before he got snapped at again. Malik took the sword back to the rack while Altair got led away to get an earful from the Master Instructor and possibly Al Mualim. Then he went back to the smith who was waiting impatiently for him to return.


	5. The Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title sounds a lot scarier than it actually is :3

Seventeen years

Altair was alone on a battlement. The closest guard was down around an actually defended part of the wall. They didn't need more than a passing look at this part where cliff and wall were nearly one in the same and nothing short of one of their own men could scale the cliffs. It meant it was a good place to be alone.

Legs over the side Altair just kept looking at his left hand. He ran his thumb against the stump of his third finger, trying to learn it as the new shape of his hand. It was weird. It still hurt from the cutting and cauterizing but the doctor said so long as he kept it wrapped it would be fine. But he couldn't stop touching it, making the pain come. He didn't like the pain exactly but he couldn't help himself.

“So this is where you got to,” he turned around and saw Malik. His left hand was also bandaged. He hadn't been like that this morning at breakfast. “What are you doing out here?”

“It’s quiet, and not so bright,” he said as if oblivious to the brilliant light against the naked rocks. But of course he didn't mean the sun. He meant the way people were bright. Brilliant blues and whites like sun reflected off the water of a pond, flickering and searing against his eyes. Malik didn't hurt his eyes. That was why he liked Malik so much and enjoyed his company more than others. He could look directly at Malik and not have to squint sometimes.

“Is it particularly bad today?” Malik asked and leaned against the battlement next to him.

Altair shrugged. “No more than usual.” He knew Malik didn't believe him when he said people glowed. But he didn't have to. Altair knew his own truth. “I just wanted to be alone.” He reached over and grabbed his left hand. “You went through it too?”

“Yeah,” Malik admired his bandaged hand, the missing finger.

Altair rubbed the stup of his finger. “What did you see?” he asked.

Malik frowned. “That’s private, Altair,” he said sharply.

Altair looked down, “I know,” he said softly. The ceremony and ritual involved with getting your finger removed also involved the ingesting of certain things that were supposed to show you your greatest fear and while in that drugged state they demanded you face it and destroy your fear. An Assassin was to be fearless above all. Death was an afterthought, a mild inconvenience. It was not something to worry. “But I saw myself,” he whispered.

Malik blinked. “Altair, you shouldn't have told me,” he said.

“I know. But…” he looked at Malik. “I saw myself, Malik.”

Malik frowned. “A ghoul is what it was. You needn’t worry about such things Altair.”

“What did you see?” he asked Malik again.

“A great spider,” Malik said. Altair looked away from him. “It nearly ate me before I stabbed it through the mouth and killed it.”

Altair did not tell Malik he had not killed his fear. The ghoul in his drugged haze had smiled a killing smile at him, come close and whispered something into his ear. He didn't even want to think what he'd said. Then he'd chopped off Altair’s head and he'd woken up and nearly done the same to the imam presiding over the ceremony.

“Did you do away with your fear?” Malik asked. “Though I don't know why you're afraid of yourself,” he scoffed.

“You would be too,” Altair said softly, “If you knew what went on in my mind.”

Malik made a disgusting noise with his mouth and shoved Altair a little. “Don’t be so dramatic, Altair,” he rolled his eyes. Altair pitched over the side of the battlement, looking down nearly parallel with the ground. His eyes didn't even widen. “Don’t do that,” Malik grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “You know it freaks me out when you just lean out over open air like that,” he scolded.

“I wouldn't fall,” Altair said, Malik still holding his left hand.

“Maybe but I'd be in so much trouble if you fell while I was around. You don't want to be like Abdul Adl do you?”

“No,” Altair lied. Though he'd thought about it. Not on purpose. But what would it feel like to bash his head against a rock after a fall, his brain scatter across the grounds. It was a random intrusive thought he sometimes had when looking from a great height, that he'd go the same way as his friend had. He never would do it. But the thought was there.

“Good,” Malik squeezed his hand. “I’d rather you stay with me than go to Abdul Adl in heaven,” Malik nodded firmly.

Altair leaned back and sort of smiled. “Really?” Malik had a soft halo through his hair. As always, even in darkness or the brightest lights. It wasn't a color he could really explain or have a name for. It wasn't red, yellow, green, blue, or even purple or white. Altair had poured over manuscripts as a younger teen looking at the bright colors and muted colors, looking for something that was even close. He hadn't been able to find one. It was a color others couldn't see. Only Altair. He liked that Malik was that color.

“Yeah. Don't tell Kadar,” he added quietly, “I’d miss you more than he would.”

Altair laughed. Like many of the boys in their hall Kadar very nearly worshipped the ground Altair walked on. It made him uncomfortable but he didn't know how to tell them to stop. Thankfully Malik was always there to pop his big head for him. “I won't tell him,” Altair promised quietly, moving his head closer to Malik so he could hear him.

Malik looked at Altair's eyes and then down briefly to his mouth and then his eyes again. Altair could see little beads of sweat starting to form on Malik's neck from the heat of the afternoon sun. Malik squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back. He could feel Malik's pulse through his hand, could feel the soft brush of his breath on his face, smell the smoke from the ceremony clinging to his clothes like a coy girl.

They startled apart when one of the fortress’s hawks screamed above them. Malik yanked his hand away. The moment evaporated like a puddle after a rain. He coughed, “Come back inside,” he said.

“With you?”

“Well duh, I'm telling you to come in,” Malik said.

“Alright,” Altair said and got off the battlement. Malik wouldn't hold his hand so he just grabbed onto the edge of Malik's shirt. He didn't miss Malik's slight smile and it made Altair smile a bit too. They went back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo c'mon guys, be cool. Kudos are great but comments let me know you appreciate what I'm doing. Even just a "loved it!" is appreciated.


	6. The Stars as Witness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> •̀.̫•́✧
> 
> I love writing teenagers. They're so stupid. Especially teenage boys lols

Eighteen years

One would think that the Sultan of the Holy Land and the leader of the Assassins wouldn't get along. That their ideals were too different from each other to coexist. But that wasn't the case. Salah ad-Din actually commanded Assassin’s far more often you'd think. Sometimes as mere foot soldiers who appeared amid the ranks as flashes of lightning steel cutting down crusaders. But also sometimes as the tireless watchmen outside of his tent. Or Altair had heard that a Master had stood beside him on the planning of a seige. The men had never met but there was a common understanding: stay out of each other’s way while dealing with crusaders. Salah ad-Din would deal with Al Mualim once the “Crusade” was over.

That didn't mean that a job from the Sultan didn't come in. A paid job. Even the Sultan had use for men as good at fighting as Assassins for things other than war.

Altair rather wished he hadn't been sent along on this journey though.

It was a long way to Egypt. And even following the coast to get the cooler sea breeze it was still so hot.

Altair was one of six Assassins, all young, to be sent on this mission. The mission? To be the guard escort for three of Salah ad-Din’s younger sons and one of his concubines back to Egypt where it was safer.

It was mind numbingly boring.

Bandits weren't stupid enough to attack a caravan bearing the seal of the Sultan and even if they were the soldiers and six white robed Assassins were a good deterant for anyone unless they were stupid. So to say they hadn't met anyone in days since they'd left Masyaf was not an exaggeration. Other than when they crossed a town to get more food or water communication was kept to a minimum. The soldiers wanted to pay around, take their time. It was impossible to do so with the Assassins around.

Altair rode at the front of the procession, just because it had the best view. He rode about a mile ahead to make sure the way was clear and if there was trouble he'd double back. His brother Muta was doing the same a mile behind the caravan of two carriages and a cart.

Altair had his eyes on the Mediterranean to his right. The sun was starting to set. It was turning the blue water a thousand colors. He'd asked Malik once what color he thought of sea was. Malik said in the day it was blue, bright by the shore and dark out at sea. He said in the twilight it was just dark before the sun came and it turned blue again. Altair knew the sea was blue. But it was more too. It was like the stars weren't just little white pricks in the sky to him. For Altair the sea at twilight was a shimmering mirage of pink, yellow-red, purple and blue of every possible and impossible shade and saturation and mixture, all swirling together to the ebb of the waves. The glare of the sun on the water wasn't as great for him either and he didn't get blinded by it the way the others complained about it.

He perked up and put his hand on his sword hilt when she heard the sound of hooves pounding towards him. It was at a distance that he couldn't tell if it was coming towards or away from him. Some moments passed and he stopped his horse when he realized it was coming from behind him. He looked behind himself.

Salah came rushing up and drew his horse up sharply, his white uniform catching up with him when he stopped. “Altair, we're camping for the night. Come back to the caravan. You and Malik have first watch,” he added.

“And who agreed to that? I certainly didn't? it,” he complained but did follow Salah back up the road to where the caravan had set up camp.

“Malik volunteered you both,” he said.

“He fucking would,” Altair grumbled.

The concubine, her son, and Salah ad-Din’s other young son were in their tent already when they arrived. The mother of the other son hadn't come with them, Salah ad-Din favored her over this one and kept her at his side. That or she was just better at satisfying him. Altair grimaced and wished he hadn't thought that. The soldiers were setting up tents and Altair’s brothers were staying out of the way and doing a sweep of the perimeter. They were down two others. “Where are Zane and Fujad?” Altair asked Salah. He could recognize them by shape alone despite the soldiers complaining they all looked damn alike.

“Hunting for dinner,” he and Salah started. They hadn't heard Malik come up on them.

“Oh good. I was tired of vegetables,” Altair got off his horse.

“Hopefully they find something out here,” and Malik led them over to where they'd set up their own camp, slightly apart from the soldiers and Sultan’s family. The soldiers protected the Sultan’s sons but the Assassins were tasked with protecting the caravan, including the soldiers. That led to some tensions between them as all the Assassins sent on this mission weren't even twenty and the soldiers all veterans and weathered soldiers who'd seen many battles. They thought it an insult Al Mualim would send children to protect them. So they just stayed away from the soldiers to avoid a fight.

“If it was just Zane? Absolutely not,” Salah said, leading his horse next to Altair. “Zane couldn't hunt fish in a barrel. Allah’s grace he's with Fujad and we might actually have some meat for dinner,” and the three of them laughed.

Altair brushed out his horse and Malik came to lean up against their withers while he did. “We should turn in a bit before watch,” he said.

“I don't know why you volunteered both of us,” Altair said. “You could just do it to yourself.”

“Yeah. But I got us out of watch tomorrow night by just getting the worst shift,” Malik grinned at him.

Altair’s hand slowed. “You did?”

“Yeah. We were going to draw lots but I said we'd do it if we didn't have to do watch all tomorrow.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that Malik,” Altair said but smirked at him.

“Yeah but I'm great at it,” Malik said. They knocked the ends of their fists together in a familiar, friendly, gesture. They didn't do it with others.

“You are, I guess I can give you that,” and they both snickered.

“C’mon, let's get some rest before Fujad gets back with dinner.

“Not Zane?”

“Zane couldn't shoot a phesant if it put itself at the end of his arrow,” Malik said. Altair snorted, tied his horse up to the stake they were using in well reach of some grass and grabbed the back of Malik's coat as they went to the tent. There were two tents, each holding three of them.

Altair removed his gear and most of his clothes, sleeping only in his pants. “I thought you would sleep like an adult by now,” Malik said.

“You’ve seen me,” Altair complained. “Also it's much cooler without that whole thing,” he motioned to the sleeping gown Malik slept in.

Malik frowned. “But you've been in those pants all day.”

“And?” Altair laid down on top of the bedroll. It wouldn't be chill for a while yet and he didn't want to sweat any more than he had to.

“Whatever,” and Malik pulled the gown on before taking off his own pants and doing the same. “Oi! Salah, wake us for dinner,” he called out of the tent.

“Rihhht,” Salah called back bordely.

Altair waited until he heard the sound of Malik's breathing deepening before he fell asleep himself. He liked not sleeping alone.

It felt like he'd just closed his eyes when someone was tugging his leg to wake him up. It was the safest way to wake an Assassin and not get stabbed or your eyes gouged out as it was the furthest place you could touch them from their hands. “What? Five more minutes,” he grumbled and rolled over.

“Fine. I'll eat your helping of dinner too,” Salah laughed.

“Nooooo,” Altair complained and sat up, groggy. “Fine, I'm awake.” He rubbed his eyes. Malik was doing the same. Malik got up, pulled on his pants and a shirt he didn't even tuck in and stumbled out of the tent. Altair got dressed properly save for some of his gear and weapon belts and left the tent. It was just past sunset and Zane and Fujad had returned with some sort of bird they were already roasting over an open pit. Numair was a silhouette against the fire of the main camp, brooding over their fire, shoulders slumped in annoyance at whatever he was being subjugated to listen to over there.

“I’m hungry,” Altair sat heavily by the fire, the chill of the desert starting to creep in from the horizon behind them making the fire feel good and not opressive.

“Well it's just finished. But we were going to just eat it all without you,” Zane said.

“I would have stabbed you,” Altair said with grave seriousness but that just made the others laugh. He rubbed his mouth and yawned as Malik came back to the camp and thumped down next to Altair.

“I regret this,” Malik groaned and leaned his cheek on Altair's shoulder.

“You’re the one who volunteered us. No belly aching,” Altair said but didn't push Malik off him.

Fujad opened the pot nestled in the side of the fire to reveal a pot of rice. He stirred it and ate some to make sure it was ready, burning the shit out of his mouth in the process. Malik made a tired noise in the back of his throat and rubbed his cheek against Altair's shoulder. Altair smacked his thigh, “Ow,” Malik said in fake pain.

“Wake up. We got a long watch,” Altair said.

“I guess,” he grumbled. “Your shoulder isn't very comfortable. You're all boney.”

“Well excuse me,” Altair rolled his eyes.

A bowl of rice with some of the cooked bird, and two dolma against the side of the bowl was handed to him. Malik was handed a bowl too and he sat up properly. They talked while waiting for their food to cool properly and ate with their hands. No need to carry utensils and the extra weight. When they finished they washed their hands with sea water Numair brought with him when he finally came over from the main camp. Numair got some rice and bird, whatever it was, and ate it while complaining about the soldiers the entire time. Altair didn't know how he didn't choke and die doing that.

Before sleep some of them prayed. Altair didn't perform Isha with them but neither did Salah or Zane. Salah was a Jew and Zane had been raised Catholic before being Threshed and had just decided God wasn't worth the hassle. Altair kept his own beliefs, that he didn't believe in God, to himself. Probably only Fujad would get up in the middle of the night before second sleep and actually perform Qiyam. Malik and Numair were Muslim but were lazy about it and Malik might look towards Mecca but they'd be lucky if Numair even woke up.

After a bit more talk they kicked the fire down to a low flame and the other four retreated into the tents. Malik put on the rest of his clothes and grabbed an overcoat for Altair. It was bit chilly at night even this close to the sea. Not like in Masyaf where up on the mountain it wasn't uncommon to see your breath at night this time of year. Once their brothers were asleep they went to the other camp just to alert the soldiers that they would be on watch. They were met with nods but disdain.

They separated and each did a walk around the perimeter to make sure all was well. They met up again at a slight rise in the land to get a better view of the silver washed plains around them. They sat together, wrapped in their coats away from the fire, not cold but grateful for the extra layer.

Altair did love stars. Like the sea he didn't see them like other people. Malik said they were just white dots in the sky. Altair knew he could see more stars than Malik could and they weren't just white to him. It was like the sky was painted with a wet brush coated in thick paint, the deep colors mixing together like blood in water, swirled and coiled around each other. For Malik the sky was a static field of white dots on darkness. For Altair it was alive with as many colors as the sea, as vibrant as a field of flowers in spring.

They didn't often spend time outside in the dark like this. They'd had other watch partners up until now. But here Malik could ask Altair about the stars. Altair knew Malik had an interest in them and he was curious about how and why Altair saw things so differently. He didn't understand why or how or what made him like that but they were as such.

As the night wore on they did another perimeter sweep before falling to sit next to each other again. Altair put his head on Malik's shoulder. “Now who's the sleepy one, huh?” Malik teased him.

“My neck hurts,” he corrected. Malik snorted. “I will be happy when we can go to sleep, though,” he said.

Malik grinned, the soft halo through his hair creating a gentle light against his cheeks and curve of his lips. Altair just stayed looking at him. They sat in a comfortable silence of just the sound of their breathing and the night crickets. Altair was doing a bad job keeping watch and was watching Malik instead. Malik had his hand lightly on Altair's thigh and it was a warm, comfortable weight through his pants leg.

It took Malik a while to realize Altair wasn't doing his job and was instead watching Malik. Malik turned and looked at him. “You should be keeping watch,” he said.

“Probably,” Altair said.

Malik didn't look away and Altair silently held his breath. Even the sound of the crickets seemed muted and in the corner of his eye the stars twinkled through Malik's messy black hair. He could hear his heart beating in his ears and he inhaled sharply when Malik leaned over, ever so hesitantly, and softly pressed his lips against his. It was only for a second or two before Malik pulled away to gauge his reaction. Altair immediately kissed him back.

He'd kissed girls before. For dares when he'd been younger and as an adult to make sure he really wasn't into the whole kissing thing. And he was never into kissing girls. He'd kissed a few boys too in private, in brothels or behind locked doors down in the dove’s garden in Masyaf at the encouragement of a friend. He wasn't really into boys either.

But kissing Malik wasn't the same.

It was just as he hoped it would be.

Perfect.

When they parted Altair felt warm all over. “Should have done that before now,” Malik's voice was a bit rough. He cleared his throat awkwardly. Altair just grinned at him.

“You can be the dumbass this time,” Altair said and reached up to scratch a little at what Malik was calling a beard. It was a bit of scruff but that was about as far as he could grow it before it just got weird and patchy.

“I’ll take that,” Malik kissed him again, “And I can make up for it.”

“Won’t hear any complaints from me,” Altair said, his voice cracking a bit. Malik just grinned at him, his white teeth flashing in the silver moonlight.

They both did a very bad keeping watch. What was that Malik had said? Making up for it? Altair wouldn't mind helping Malik make up for all the time they hadn't been doing this. It was nice and Altair had his hand in Malik's hair, holding him close.

But duty did call and while they slacked off actually keeping an eye out they did get up at midnight and did a purposefully slow perimeter sweep so they could make up for their bad watch. Not that Altair didn't want to just skim the horizon and meet back up with Malik but he did have a job to do. And he'd get flayed if he messed it up. Al Mualim was not kind to his failures. So he stalked his side of the perimeter slowly, carefully eyeing ever dip in the land and the way the moonlight bounced off the earth to make sure he missed nothing. Thankfully his night vision was very good and he didn't miss much. He still told himself to take it slow. That didn't work much for his heart which was still beating quick in excitement.

Malik wasn't there when he got back. That made him frown and he sat down. He knew nothing had happened to him physically. Malik would have called out and the perimeter wasn't so wide that a well placed shout wouldn't have alerted Altair or woken the entire camp. He had to remind himself that Malik's vision in the dark wasn't as good as his. He was just taking longer. Altair sat and waited. He couldn't do much else really. He did start to worry when Malik took a while and that ghoul started up again. That he was delusional. That Malik was only his friend and not a very good one. That Altair was full of wishful thinking about what he wanted. That no one would ever feel that way about him. Why would they? He was a freak. A weirdo. Al Mualim’s untouchable favorite.

Malik's coat appeared out of the darkness and Altair breathed in relief. “What took you?” Altair asked him.

“I had to piss. That a problem?”

Altair had doubt. That shouldn't have taken him that long. “No,” he said. “I just missed you,” he smiled and hoped he didn't looked worried.

Malik blinked and then smiled back at him. “I wasn't that late you big worry wart,” Malik said and with a huff sat down… right in Altair's lap. Internally Altair's brain just screamed but he couldn't get the smile off his face. “Uhg, you are so boney and skinny,” Malik complained.

“You chose to sit here,” Altair reminded him.

“You’re right. I make terrible decisions,” and he got out of Altair's lap. Before he could be upset Malik tugged on his hand. It took him a moment to get what he was getting at and he quickly crawled into Malik's lap. “Better,” Malik grunted as Altair got into a sort of comfortable position. “Much better,” and Altair's spine tingled, his scalp prickling when Malik kissed his neck.

They spent the rest of their watch like that. Staying until they were physically too exhausted to continue. Mostly to keep kissing. But they did finally drag themselves back to their camp and wake up their replacements.

They barely took off their harnesses and belts before collapsing into their bedrolls, exhausted. As he was nodding off Altair reached out to Malik to make sure he wasn't just having a bit of an exhausted dream state. Malik grabbed his hand and put down and held it in his sleep.

In the morning their hands were still clasped and Altair woke because of the others moving around and the sound of the fire. Altair squeezed Malik's hand, eyes half open in the diffused tent light. Malik always slept later. He was a late riser.

“Oi, get up or we're drinking all the coffee,” Zane said just outside of the tent flap. Malik didn't even hear, he was still sleeping.

Altair did get up and knee walked over to Malik. He put Malik's face between his hands and knew he was putting his wrists at risk. They all slept with a knife under their heads. But Altair wasn't afraid. He knew the others wouldn't check on them until the soldiers told them they were leaving so he didn't rush it. He just held Malik's sleeping face and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs.

Malik woke slowly, tiredly. Then he realized someone was touching him and was instantly awake. There was a snap movement and Altair grabbed Malik's wrist when he swung out from under his pillow blindly with a knife. Then Malik's eyes focused. “Altair— what the hell,” he dropped the knife.

“Morning,” he said.

“Don’t do that,” Malik yanked out of his grip. “I could have hurt you.”

“I wouldn't have let you,” Altair said, glanced towards the closed tent flap, and kissed Malik softly on the lips. That confused him for a moment but he didn't push Altair away before Altair stopped on his own. “Get up. The others are going to drink all the coffee,” and he got up.

“Over my dead body they're drinking all the damn coffee,” Malik stormed out of the tent, no shirt, barely keeping his pants on. “If you drank all the coffee I'm stabbing all of you!” he cried. Altair just laughed and followed after him.


	7. A Day's Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More cute teenageeeeers

Nineteen years

It was a hot spring day. Sweat stood out on Altair's nearly bald head. The newly made instructor Rauf was watching over him while he trained with journeymen. An hour ago Altair was lazing about between assignments and Rauf had found him. He'd been prepared for a fight of some sort with him like he usually got into with the older man because Rauf just got into petty arguments with people. But it was different. Rauf had just asked for his help. He'd wanted Altair to help him embaress his class a little who were full of big headed teenagers who needed some beating back.

Altair still didn't understand why Rauf didn't just do it. Rauf was one of the most skilled swordsmen Altair knew. Altair was barely thinking about the spar he was in the middle of. Rauf was five years older than him and used to be a real asshole. But suddenly he wasn't. Altair wasn't even sure why or how. Rauf even seemed… nice to the journeymen he was teaching. That wasn't the Rauf he knew.

Altair did a leg sweep and disarmed the journeyman barely paying attention to him. He kept his mind forward enough to not follow through with the attack. He could still remember what he did to Jamir. He was crippled now. He blamed Altair exclusively and not his own reckless attacks that had completely triggered Altair's killing side when all their age mates knew Altair could get tunnel visioned fighting lust. Not even blood. He just loved fighting.

He looked at Rauf while the journeyman got to his feet. He was standing to the side of the ring, arms folded, watching. “How’d you do that?” the young man asked.

Altair didn't answer him. Altair still didn't know how Rauf was so relaxed. He'd heard a rumour he'd died. Maybe he had died? But it was Rauf. Altair would know the style of his swordplay anywhere. If anything he'd gotten better at fighting since the last time Altair had seen him. Altair suddenly couldn't remember other than the past few weeks since he'd been made an Instructor when the last time he'd seen Rauf was.

“Because Altair is a much better fighter than you,” Rauf said. “If you ever want to lose your finger you need to be even a fraction as good as Altair.”

Ah. So the asshole in Rauf Altair was used to seeing wasn't entirely gone. It was just in a facade. Or it was impossible for anyone to truely change who they were. Or maybe Rauf was just tired of egotistical teenagers and wanted to realize they sucked. “Don’t give them too much false hope, Rauf,” Altair said mildly. “They are more likely to receive their seventy-two virgins before they are a fraction of me,” he smirked.

That made Rauf’s beard crack in a half toothed smile. “At this rate it is quite possible. Now get up, your brothers haven't had a chance to get beat yet,” he leaned on the fence and motioned to the teenager still on the ground. They picked themselves up and sulked back to their friends.

Altair bordely worked half way through Rauf’s class before getting distracted. Not so distracted he couldn't keep up with the fight but he was aware of someone coming up to stand next to Rauf. He recognized the silhouette instantly. He disarmed the teenager casually, grabbed his sword out of the air by the hilt and walked away from them. “Malik! Finally,” he complained.

“What? Miss me?” Malik smirked.

“Like a headache,” Altair came up to the fence and they knocked fists before embracing briefly. Malik had been gone a month and a half on a mission. That was why Rauf had been able to commandeer Altair's time. Because he'd been bored and Malik hadn't been around.

“Awww, so sentimental,” Malik said.

Altair put the journeman’s sword against the fence and sheathed his own. “You back for a while?”

“Yes. I got in a little while ago.” Altair tried not to be annoyed but he rationalized that Malik had probably taken that time to be debriefed, bathe, eat, and reorder his belongings, maybe clean his swords. Altair would have wanted to do all those things after such a long mission away from home. “Al Mualim said I'd be home for a while.”

“Good,” Altair nodded.

“You busy?”

Altair looked behind him at the teenagers. “Not particularly,” he shrugged and Rauf chuckled.

“Ah. Well excuse me, Instructor, I'm going to be stealing your disciplinarian,” he motioned to Altair.

“Of course,” Rauf said.

Altair climbed over the fence and joined Malik. He left the practice sword and with a wave at Rauf they left. “Was that Rauf?” Malik asked once they were well out of earshot.

“Yeah.”

“I thought he was dead,” Malik said, wide eyed.

“Yeah. Apparently not,” Altair shrugged.

“What’s he doing training journeymen?”

“I have no idea,” Altair said. “How was your mission?”

Malik told him about it while they walked into the fortress. It was a bodyguard mission basically. Protect a young woman from several rival family suiters before she was married to her arranged betrothed. It sounded utterly boring but probably paid well and got the Assassin’s some not so terrible reputation as reputable mercenaries and not just murderers for hire.

“It was really awkward towards the end,” Malik was saying as they headed for Altair's room. Altair had an odd room for a young man. He had a room with a window and didn't have a roommate. Usually such rooms were reserved for Masters. That was still a ways off for Altair.

“Why? Seemed like a pretty boring affair,” Altair said, unlocking his door for them.

“Yeah well… well she…” he sighed.

“Malik?” he hesitated opening the door.

“She kissed me,” he winced, “and wanted to sleep with me.” It must have seen all over Altair's face because Malik opened the door and shoved him inside. “But I didn't,” he was quick to assure Altair as he closed the door.

“Did you kiss her back?” Altair asked once the door was between them and prying ears.

Malik grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. “What do you think?” he asked quietly.

“Just tell me,” Altair swallowed but did feel better than before.

“For like a second because she surprised me but that was it. I promise,” Malik said, still holding his face. “I missed you,” he added softly.

“I missed you too,” and Malik kissed him gently again. Malik had been gone for so long and before that they had both been busy for the four months between now and their mission to deliver Salah ad-Din’s sons to Egypt. That mission had been the longest uninterrupted time they'd had together in over half a year. Between their own missions they saw each other a day or two, a few times only being in the fortress for a few hours at the same time.

“I have no interest in kissing girls. Just you. I just needed to tell you because I felt so guilty it happened,” Malik admitted and looked down. “I didn't want to keep someone kissing me from you.”

Altair reached up and put his hand over Malik's. “I missed you,” he just said again. Malik smiled at him and they kissed again. Altair shrugged off his light weapon harnesses and armor to be more comfortable and the two of them ended up lounging on the other side of Altair's room. Because he didn't have a roommate Altair had turned that part of his room into what looked sort of like a bureau garden. A brightly colored rug and several pillows for resting and relaxing. He always felt the most relaxed in those gardens and he'd needed to do special favors for everything there. It was his safe place from others of the fortress or Al Mualim.

Malik was half in his lap at the end of it, his head on the meat Altair's front shoulder and they just shared a comfortable silence. Altair gently ran his finger across the top of Malik's hand on his thigh.

“How long are you staying? Do you know?”

“No. A little while I hope. You aren't scheduled to leave soon are you?”

“Not that I know of,” Altair said.

“Good,” Malik lifted his head and Altair kissed him. Kissing Malik was the best feeling every time. It didn't matter how many times they did it or how briefly it lasted. It was always perfect. “I hope we can have more than a few days together this time.”

“Yes,” Altair nodded. “But don't say that too loudly or fate will hear you,” and that made Malik chuckle.

“I’ll keep my voice down,” Malik said.

“I know how difficult that is for you,” and they both laughed. Altair only smiled around Malik really and as much as he'd missed Malik's presence itself he'd also missed feeling at ease enough to smile. Smirk yes. A smile? One that wasn't for killing? A rare thing when not around Malik. Even before they'd started doing this Malik just made him happy.

“Then keep my mouth busy,” Malik said and they both flushed. Now a bit shy Altair leaned over and kissed him deeply. Malik grabbed part of his shirt. They spent the rest of the afternoon almost just like that.


	8. The Concubine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For people who have read Lily, this story doesn't relate to Lily at all but I just… really like some of the OCs from it to the point they're just part of my fanon for Altair because damnit my boy needs more friends who don't kill people >:C

Twenty-one years

When the first rays of light shifted through the room Altair woke up. Next to him Malik had his face buried in his side to hide away from the light. Predictable. He grinned sleepily and rolled onto his back. He stretched and groaned loudly.

“No,” Malik grumbled.

“Afraid so,” Altair yawned to wake up.

Malik's reply was to shove his head under a pillow. Altair chuckled and sat up, stretching again, arms above his head and he felt his back pop delightfully making him moan a little.

He climbed over Malik to stumble to the corner to the piss pot and squinted in the new morning light. He hadn't told Malik he was leaving tomorrow yet. They were both equally grumpy whenever one of them had to be pulled away and they couldn't spend the days in the fortress knowing the other was within a few minutes of searching.

He finished his business and went back to the bed where Malik was stubbornly sleeping in. Altair crawled on top of him and tugged the pillow off his head. “Get up,” he said.

“Fuck off,” and Malik tried to snatch the pillow back.

They grappled for the pillow a few seconds. “It’s time to be up,” Altair said once he won and had Malik's hands pinned next to his head. “You’ll miss breakfast and you know how cranky and unbearable you are when you miss breakfast and coffee,” he said, looking down at him.

“Maybe I wouldn't need that if I could get some extra sleep,” Malik stuck his tongue out at him.

Altair grinned and leaned down, “Yes but I'm going to breakfast and want you to come with me,” he said softly and kissed him. Malik kissed him back. Altair let go of Malik's hands and they curled around his neck. “So get up.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Malik said, running his hands from behind Altair's shoulders down his chest. Altair kissed him again. Never got old. Malik ran his hands all the way down Altair's chest to his groin before pulling away. When Altair stopped kissing him he saw Malik was flushed. Altair had an idea why and he flushed too. Now it was sort of awkward.

“Breakfast?” Altair asked.

“Ah- yeah,” and Altair let Malik up. Altair got dressed as Malik did his own business and pulled on clothes he'd brought from his own room. He didn't spend every night in Altair's room but it was often. When Malik’s roommate wasn't there he did but otherwise Malik spent equal time in his own bed and waiting for them to go to sleep before coming and sleeping with Altair. He had a few changes of clothes in Altair's room for that very reason.

They went down to breakfast and Altair got olives thrown at him when he told Malik he was leaving tomorrow for a mission. Several of their friends joined in when they realized Malik was doing it and Altair fled to their laughter before he ended up all greasy. He wasn't angry but it was annoying. He'd find Malik later and make him not so annoyed with him.

Altair went down to the back garden in the fortress. There the harem was getting ready for the day and having their own breakfast. Altair tried not to think too much about the nature of why Masyaf had a harem. As an adult he could use it however and whenever he wanted. He never had. But the girls all knew him on sight.

“Altairrr,” a pretty woman named Noor cooed and lounged on a pillow, her dress was immodest and very nearly had her breasts falling out. It couldn't be comfortable.

“Hello,” he said but was hardly looking at her or her sister concubines who were looking at him while eating. He was looking for the harem guards. “Where is Kabir?”

“Sleeping? I don't keep him,” Noor scoffed and he was ignored when he once again had no use for them. Altair knew he was attractive because he'd been told. He didn't think he was much special but the women of the harem had told him otherwise and were always trying to sleep with him. He supposed because not many of his brothers were attractive? He didn't know how that worked.

Altair went up to the one of the harem guards. They wore a costume like a Masyaf guard but were full fingered and wore no weapons. To the casual glance of someone here for the harem they looked the part. “Where is Kabir?” he asked him. They shrugged. “You do know.”

They rolled their eyes. “He’s sleeping. You going to bother him little eagle?” he asked.

Altair scowled at them and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Do not assume familiarity just because I am friends with Kabir,” he hissed. “If I killed you no one would give a shit. My name is Altair, remember it.” The guard’s eyes were wide and he nodded, terrified.

Altair released him roughly and went to where the harem had their private rooms. There were no doors but there was closed off areas separated by three walls and a thick curtain across the doorway of the forth wall. There was no real privacy for the harem. There were only a few rooms with actual doors and Kabir had one of them. He knocked.

“I’m almost ready, stop rushing me Sharud,” Kabir called from inside. Altair waited and then Kabir came out in his guard costume a few minutes later. “Oh, Altair,” he said. Kabir was in his late twenties, or so he said, with a perfectly manicured beard and pretty light brown eyes. He was fairly short for a man with a lithe figure and almost no muscle at all. He looked very unintimidating and if Altair didn't know any better a complete push over.

“Yeah. Hey,” Altair always felt awkward the first few minutes with Kabir. He was always reminded sharply that Kabir wasn't like him or his other friends. He was a member of the harem and… had his uses. It made him awkward.

“Did you need something, Altair?”

“Can I speak with you? Before the day grows long?”

“Of course,” Kabir said softly and touched his arm kindly. “Come inside. Let me go get some breakfast and we can talk as long as you want. You know I always have time for you.”

“Thank you,” and Altair ducked inside. He sat on the very edge of the bed while waiting for Kabir went to get his breakfast.

He came back a few minutes later and put the platter on the bed between himself and Altair. “So, what did you want to talk about?” Kabir asked him.

Altair played with a hem awkwardly for a moment. But Kabir would never mock him for his questions or berate him for not knowing something. Especially about something Kabir was an expert in. Altair really was a novice when it came to things Kabir knew about. “I was… curious,” he started.

“Yes?” Kabir asked, eating humus on pita.

“I know you'd know but… how are men intimate?”

Kabir choked. He coughed and Altair frowned. He leaned over and patted Kabir’s back hard to help clear his air passage. Kabir coughed a little bit more, swallowed hard, and raised a hand to show he was fine. He took a sip of cooled coffee to clear the passage. “What?” he asked.

Altair just gave him a look. “You heard me, obviously.”

“Where’s this coming from? You said you weren't interested.”

“I’m not,” Altair was quick to say before Kabir got any ideas. He was friends with Kabir but he also knew Kabir had also been very disappointed when Altair decided he didn't like girls, or boys, as a younger teenager.

“But?” Kabir asked.

Altair looked away and rubbed his cheek awkwardly as he felt his face heat up some. “There… is someone,” he said shyly.

“There is?!” Kabir cried. Not upset.

No. He sounded thrilled. Excited even. Altair knew Kabir worried about him. About his ability to form normal relationships. Altair called many of his brothers ‘friends’ but they were hardly friends. He was just forced to be around them and so knew of them and understood them and spent time with them. But in truth, if pressed, he'd call none of them his friends. They didn't know him. Didn't understand him. They were either wary of him or nervous of him or thought him full of himself. He knew they only felt at ease around him in a group, or if Malik was with them. Malik was his friend. One of the only ones he had. His most important friend.

Altair nodded and bit his lower lip to stop from smiling. “Yeah. He's… very nice,” he said softly, not looking at Kabir.

“Who? Tell me? Please,” Kabir put his hands together cutely. Kabir was the only man Altair who could do anything cutely.

“Ah— I don't know,” Altair leaned away little.

“Finnne, keep your secrets, little eagle,” Kabir sighed and folded his arms. “It must be someone very special for them to catch your interest,” he huffed fondly.

“He is,” Altair nodded shyly. “And I know you… know how to do such things,” he flushed even talking around it. He'd definitely interupted Kabir once or twice. He'd never seen anything but he wasn't totally stupid. He had an idea.

“Yes I've sucked a dick or two in my day if that's what you're saying,” Kabir said glibly probably with the sole purpose of making Altair yell out and flail at him. Which is absolutely did. That just made Kabir laugh. “What did you want to know?” he went back to his breakfast. “Or better: how much do you want to know?”

“Umm… I don't think I need to know the overly graphic parts, Kabir,” he said awkwardly. “My brothers talk about sex enough with women and it sounds so… messy and gross.”

“Sex is messy and can be gross yes,” Kabir nodded.

“I don't think I need to go that far-

“Yet-

“That is enough I think!” Altair's voice went up an octave at that. Kabir just giggled.

“Well do you want me to just explain it or a practical demonstration?” Kabir rose his eyebrows at Altair suggestively.

Altair flushed brightly. “Ah— I think being told will be enough,” he stammered out. “Certainly traumatizing enough,” he added with a huff which made Kabir laugh again.

“Alright,” he grinned. “Let me finish breakfast and I'll tell you about it.”

“Oh good,” Altair swallowed.


	9. A Shattering Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one chapter they don't hold hands :,)

Twenty-four years

After a bath to rid himself of road dust and perhaps the last bits of blood Malik could finally say he was glad to be home. He hadn't been home in such a long time. Al Mualim had tasked him and several others to operate under Salah ad-Din’s behest for nearly six months, fighting crusaders, assassinating Templars, putting the fear of Allah into his own men as they watched half a dozen men cut a bloody swath through an army with only some scuffs for their trouble. It had been dirty, messy, satisfying work but he was glad to be home.

He checked Altair's room but he wasn't in. He checked the usual areas Altair liked to hide in since he wasn't outside. He found Altair at the top of the fortress with one of their carrier pigeons. He was gently stroking their front breast. Malik smiled slightly.

This was the side of Altair no one else saw. The softer side of him. The side that might actually help him make more friends but he never seemed to care about that. But this softness was why Malik liked him. It proved that even the best killer they'd trained in years could be gentle.

And he'd missed Altair so much. At first not very much but as the assignment had gone on longer and longer he'd missed Altair more and more. It had gotten to the point that on the way home it had been all he'd been able to do to not have Altair on his mind all the time. He couldn't wait to see his secret, shy, smile or his amber eyes that always got so bright whenever he saw Malik, or feel the press of his mouth against Malik's. It had been all consuming thoughts at the end. And now he was finally here.

“Altair,” he said. Altair didn't react. Didn't start. Didn't even look at him. Maybe the wind snatched his voice. He walked closer. “Altair,” he reached out and grabbed Altair's arm familiarly.

Altair finally looked at him. There was no warmth there. “Did you need something?” he asked in the same tone he'd use on some of their age mates he didn't particularly like.

Malik frowned in confusion. “I’m home,” he said and made himself smile despite his worry.

Altair just blinked at him. “Did you need something?” he asked again.

His entire face frowned now. “Are you well? I figured you'd be more happy to see me. You're not mad I was gone so long are you? You know I have no control over that.”

“I’m not mad,” he said and it wasn't a lie. “I just don't care.”

Malik felt a chip in his heart splinter. “What?”

Altair pulled his arm away and out of his grip. “You heard me,” he said.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Altair's voice was cold and Malik had a feeling he wasn't talking about Malik being gone. He was trying to insinuate that they hadn't been in a relationship for almost six years. Sure on and off as they could manage to see each other between their duties and missions but there was never any animosity towards them both having these duties.

Malik was hit by a deep and abrupt pain in his chest. It felt like he was being stepped on. He tried to smother it with rage and it worked. The hot flame of his temper briefly cauterized the wound in his heart. “So that's how you feel now about, huh? Well fuck you too,” and he spit at Altair's feet and left.

He made it half way down the stairs before he had to stop and very nearly collapsed against the wall. His rage dribbled away as thick, ugly tears rolled down his cheeks. He allowed himself to sob once before pulling it back and just kept the sobbing in his shaking shoulders.

What had happened while he'd been gone? What had happened to his Altair?


	10. Haram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is the last sad chapter lols
> 
> Yo the first part might be upsetting to some people. It isn't super graphic but it IS Malik getting his arm amputated. If you don't want to read that you can just skip down to the altir part in the second half.

Twenty-five years

Malik was feverish and a bit delerious. But he was aware. He knew people were around him, talking to him. His arm hurt. He'd managed to make it to Masyaf on pure stubbornness but as soon as he had completed his duty he'd collapsed.

He could remember Al Mualim sending Altair away, blame hot in his voice. Then he'd come around the desk and looked down at Malik, his one nearly golden amber eye staring down at him. He'd done nothing for several minutes, just looking down at him. There was no gratitude in his eyes for bringing him his stupid ball that had cost Malik his brother. There was no concern for his well being.

It was only when one of the guards approached that Al Mualim ordered him to the hospital on the other side of the fortress.

He was sure he'd imagined half of that. Al Mualim wouldn't have just left him to die of infection on the floor. The fever must have made time seem longer than it was.

“Malik,” his name cut through the haze of his fever. He sought the speaker. “Do you feel this?” they pinched his arm.

“Yes,” he said. “Thirsty,” he added in a rasp.

“Good. Drink this,” and a bottle was produced. He sipped and sputtered as it burned his mouth and throat.

“Ah! Why is that?” he demanded.

“Arak, now be quiet and drink,” the doctor said.

“No… that is haram,” he said.

“Shut up and drink it. Allah will forgive you,” the doctor said. “You’re not strong enough for smoked drugs and you will want to dull the pain.”

Pain? Were they sewing his arm up? That made sense to him. He nodded but wasn't happy about it. The doctor poured more of the arak into his mouth. It was so strong it felt like it was burning the inside of his mouth away. He just opened his throat and let it go through unobstructed. It burned this throat on the way down and he could even feel it in his stomach.

He was drunk in moments.

The doctor was talking to him but he didn't understand. He just kept blinking at the doctor, his vision blurry, mouth tingling from the intensely strong arak. He was listening but the words weren't penetrating. “Malik,” again his name cut through. “Are you ready?”

“Sure,” he said, not even knowing what he was agreeing to.

He felt a pinch on his left arm. His arm spasmed a bit and a pair of big Assassins came forward and held down his shoulders and hips. That didn't feel like needle and thread.

Even with the arak he was very aware of the feeling of saw teeth through the flesh of his arm all at once. Once he was aware it was as much pain as it was horror that made him scream, shattering the otherwise quiet hospital ward. He managed to get two breaths of a scream out before a rag was shoved into his mouth. He screamed against that too.

No amount of drink would make him forget the feeling of the amputation saw reaching the thick bone in his upper arm. The big men held him down against the horrible grinding sound that could only be heard between Malik’s gagged shrieking.

He was grateful when he couldn't take any more and blacked out.

—

The ward was like a tomb. Altair sat in the shadowed side of the cot looking intently at the occupant who was deep in sleep. He wore a serious look on his face, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, mouth against his hands.

This was his fault.

He shouldn't have been so stand offish. He should have told Malik why he'd suddenly become so hard and cruel. He should have been there. His own hubris had gotten his Malik hurt like a this. Had gotten Kadar killed.

The worst part was that he'd only been doing what he'd been told to do. Al Mualim had not been kind when he'd found out. Altair wasn't to talk to Malik anymore. Wasn't to spend any more time with him. Wasn't to interact with him in any way. If he did he'd be punished severely or have his new Master’s sword taken and retrained to another duty.

Al Mualim’s favorite threat was to give him over to the dungeon. Train him to be a torturer, a keeper of kidnappings, prisoners of war, and enemies of the Brotherhood. His brothers thought he was a nightmare, a derangement, that he was the worst parts of all of them. But they forgot about their dungeon. The dungeon guards didn't interact with the rest of the Britherhood. They lived nearly their entire lives undergroumd. Not because they couldn't leave and go outside but because their world was pain, torment, and that did not see the light of day.

When he'd been young and wild or troublesome and Al Mualim hadn't been able to control him he used to bring Altair down to the dungeon. He'd make Altair talk to one of their dungeon keepers. The commander of the dungeon “guard” literally had no name. He went only by Haram: forbbidean, a blight against Allah and all of Islam. He'd had colorless flesh and had seeped a black fog of light that Altair had not seen on many others but knew was deeply evil. His eyes had been like shining beetle carapaces and when he spoke Altair had been helpless to notice his teeth, huge and perfectly straight and brilliantly white but… not right in his mouth. Haram had liked Altair and that more than anything made Altair correct his behavior.

You did not want to be liked by a man like Haram.

He didn't doubt for a moment Al Mualim, in his fury at finding out what Altair was doing with Malik, would have thrown him to Haram if he had not instantly changed his behavior. Altair would rather die than never see daylight again and know only the three halls of their dungeon which was never at a lack of inmates whenever Al Mualim dragged him down there.

Altair rubbed his eyes slowly. Maybe he'd been too cruel. Been too abrupt. But Altair didn't know how to do things in half measures. It was all or nothing. Either he and Malik were together, or they weren't.

He flinched when Malik made a noise. He was starting to wake up. He saw his eyes flutter a bit and Altair left but didn't go far, just out of sight in an alcove. No one knew he was here and he certainly didn't want Malik to know he was here. He didn't need or want to inflict any more stress upon him.

Malik shifted in his bed and that drew the attention of the nurse from the small office. Altair had his back to a way turned away but he heard them talking softly. “Good afternoon, Malik. With the land of the living now I see?” the nurse asked.

“What happened?” came Malik's disused voice. Altair closed his eyes, bowing his head. Altair had happened, in all the worst ways.

“You’re alive, and safe. Here, drink this,” the nurse said nicely.

There was quiet and Altair fought a smile when Malik said in the most suspicious way, “That isn't arak?”

The nurse gave a little giggle, “No. It's lemonade and tea,” he said. “Here, I'll help you.” There was quiet for several moments as the nurse helped Malik drink.

“What happened?” Malik asked again, his voice stronger now.

“You were injured and going to die,” the nurse said quietly. “The head surgeon prevented it. Now I need you to take this.”

“What is that?”

“Pain killers and it will help you sleep so you can heal.”

“How long have I been here?” Malik asked once he'd taken them.

“A few days.”

“Is this the first time I've woken?”

“We’ve woken you briefly to feed you and give you water but other than that no. Now get some rest. You will have a substantial recovery after your surgery.”

“What happened to the Templars at our gates?”

“They are gone.”

“What happened?”

“From what I heard Altair was sent up the mountain cliffs to trigger traps where other men couldn't get to.”

“He would be,” Malik snarled. “Forget I asked,” and there was quiet. The nurse asked if Malik was okay but he was unresponsive. Altair just looked down. The nurse eventually left and Altair waited. He listened closely to Malik and waited for the sound of his breathing. It took a bit of time but the sound of his breathing eventually deepened as he entered sleep.

Only once Altair was sure Malik was asleep did he venture out of his hiding place to even peek. Malik was indeed fast asleep and Altair returned to his chair next to Malik's cot.

He watched Malik sleep. He looked peaceful. He knew it wouldn't last. Once he was strong enough to be awake for more than a few minutes he'd realize his arm had been cut off. But what Altair wouldn't give for him to always look this peaceful. He leaned forward, put his hand over Malik's hand on the bed, felt the hard callouses of his fingers, the fine self done manicure of his fingernails, trimmed short and neat.

Hesitantly, carefully, slowly, Altair reached out and touched Malik's face. He hadn't touched Malik in a year. Six months while he'd been gone on that mission to serve Salah ad-Din and six months since then when Altair had been cruel and acted like they'd never been. The skin of his face was smooth except where a beard was growing in. It didn't grow in patchy anymore. It was a man’s beard now.

Altair allowed himself the fragile weakness of touching Malik's cheek and brow before he pulled away. “I didn't mean it,” he whispered. “Any of it. I know you won't forgive me,” he bowed his head. “And I guess I don't deserve it.” His shoulders trembled, his hands fists on his knees. “But if I could I'd take it all back.” He heard voices. The doctors were coming back from lunch. He needed to go.

Altair stood up over Malik's bed. “Just… don't hate me forever,” he begged softly and leaned over, kissed Malik lightly on the forehead and immediately left, avoiding the nurse and incoming doctors easily enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want the next chapter right now? New chapters are posted ahead of here on AO3 on my Patreon along with all my old work I've since deleted. You can find information about my Patreon [here](https://xazz.tumblr.com/post/185209007148/).
> 
> And if you can't become a patron you can still support me by just leaving a comment. Even if it's just "loved it!" it shows you appreciate me.


	11. Come Back To Me

Twenty-six years

When the bells started ringing out in the city Malik couldn't help but flinch. He tried to rationalize that guards on such high alert was bad for the bureau. But it wasn't that. It had never been that. He finally stopped what he was doing and looked out to the paved garden when the bells all across the city started going, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He'd never heard the bells all going. Not even when Altair had killed the regent.

He went and closed the lattice but the grate didn't help the sound. He looked out through his cage to the blue, cloudless, sky. He looked through the wall when he heard guards yelling and running. Running past the bureau, running towards where the regent’s funeral was being held.

He closed his shop. He locked the doors and shuttered the windows. One of his neighbors have him a worried look as he closed the metal grates across the windows. He mirrored their visage but didn't feel the same anxiety. At least not for the same reasons.

All he could do was wait. He prepared medical supplies in the back. Boiled water. Organized what he had. Anything to avoid the sound of clanging bells. He'd only started to heal his heart and he couldn't think about what might break it again.

The bells ceased after nearly an hour. Malik opened the lattice. Two Assassins dropped through, each giving a different but gruesome report of their own targets at the funeral and what was going on outside the walls of the bureau. Malik gave them some food and drink and told them to lay low. They scurried out, passing someone on the way out.

Malik took a step back looking up at the shadow above him. He couldn't see their face because of the angle of the sun. They climbed down slowly, their uniform covered in dirt, dried blood, and the tails tattered. Malik took several more steps back warily as they finally turned around.

Altair's face was covered in blood.

“Altair-”

Altair raised his hand for quiet. “Robert was not there,” and he walked into the bureau. Malik stayed out in the light under the sky as the shadow of the closed bureau swallowed Altair's form, turning his white robed body into the shape of a ghost.

“What do you mean he wasn't there?” Malik asked.

“He wasn't there!” his voice came out sharp, furious. He placed a bloodied feather on the desk. “There was a woman instead. His stand in. She took his place. He rides for Arsuf to speak with the Lionheart. I must meet him before he gets there.”

“Why the rush?” Malik asked.

Altair hesitated and then lied to him, “He is the last one on my list.”

“You do not normally get this angry when you miss. What happened?” Malik called his bluff and still didn't move. Altair said nothing for a moment before looking away, annoyed. “If you want a sanctioned feather you will tell me, Altair,” he said sharply.

“Do you trust me, Malik?” he asked quietly.

“I’d like to think I can,” Malik said.

Altair wavered. He walked across the bureau, looking at the walls, looking at nothing. Altair did his thinking in motion. Malik had once found him running laps around the fortress walls while doing arithmetic study when they'd been young teenagers. He walked back to Malik but didn't cross the threshold into the walled garden and into the light. 

“I think something bad is happening,” he said.

“Such?” Malik asked.

Altair walked to the desk, picked up the feather. “Al Mualim’s punishment was to reduce me. To send me on my own errands, on my scouting missions, plan my attacks myself. No other Assassin does that. Why do you think that is?” He examined the feather as he spoke, not looking at Malik.

“Because we leave such mundane work to our younger brothers,” Malik said.

“Or maybe Al Mualim doesn't want one person to know everything.”

Malik frowned, “The Dai know everything, Altair,” he reminded him.

“You know pieces,” he set the feather down. “Pieces in your own city. You don't know what I have seen in the other cities, out in the kingdom.” He looked at Malik and his amber eyes were bright even from the shadows. If Malik knew him any less he'd be afraid. Malik hadn't been afraid of Altair in a long time. “All the men I've killed were Templars, but they were from both sides.”

“I don't understand what you are saying,” Malik frowned.

Altair walked the length of the desk, stopped, walked back to the feather, and back towards Malik again. “Salah ad-Din was our ally for years. Why now are we killing his subjects?”

“A contract-

“There are no more contracts, Malik,” Altair cut him off. “You’ve been gone from home too long. Masyaf chokes on dust. Men loiter, bored; meals and drink are less than even eight months ago; the smithy sits idle, cold of flame and empty of men and metal. Nothing comes in and our tithe is already a strain on the villages in our shadow. They have nothing left to give. Masyaf withers.”

Malik stared at him in horror, “Why?” he took a few steps into the bureau, the light briefly cutting him in half before the shadow welcomed him in full. “What is happening?”

“I don't know. I can only guess. Once I slay Robert I am going to demand answers from Al Mualim why he makes our own people our enemies, why he's let our Brotherhood slowly turn to dust.”

“I’m sure he's trying his best-

“You don't know him as I do,” Altair said fiercely. “That is why I need to get to Robert before he gets to the Lionheart and turns him against us as Salah ad-Din is starting to turn against us.”

“Altair… I think you need to rest. You sound mad-

“Then I am! But at least I am doing something about it,” he advanced on Malik and Malik was too slow to get away even as sunlight splashed across his back. Altair grabbed him by the face with both hands. Up close he smelled of dried blood. “If you ever felt anything for me, I ask that you trust me now. That I am sure,” he said, voice low and desperate. “If I am right we are doomed. If I am wrong we are doomed. I just need someone to believe me. I realize I speak madness but… I am afraid Malik,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I am afraid Al Mualim has destroyed everything we worked to build, and will destroy us next.”

Malik stared at Altair. The blood across his visage was from him wiping sweat off his face with bloody hands, leaving streaks across his brow and cheeks in the shapes of his fingers. On the outside he looked like a mad man. Covered in the blood of his enemies raving about some mad conspiracy. Malik liked to think he knew Altair better than that. That this was a genuine concern for him. That he'd thought long and deeply on what he was saying. He wouldn't just start spouting this now if he didn't have a good reason, unless he really was afraid. He wouldn't have cornered Malik in his own bureau after a massive hit to the Saracens and Crusaders if it wasn't serious.

Malik wanted to trust him. He'd trusted him before. He knew Altair well enough. Had it been anyone else he would have scoffed and told them off but not Altair. Not with his serious amber eyes and worry riddled face.

Malik reached up and put his hand over Altair's. “I trust you,” he said. “I believe you.”

Altair deflated. “Thank you.”

“What can I do to help? I am rather stuck here,” Altair took his hands off Malik's face but Malik kept the fingers of his one hand lightly curled in Altair's.

Altair shook his head slightly. “I admit. I didn't think I'd get this far. I thought you would tell me to fuck off and I'd have to do this alone,” he said softly.

That sort of annoyed Malik, that Altair would think that. But he supposed in the past year and a half he'd given Altair no reason to think otherwise. “I was angry with you before,” he said. “But you were different. This is the you I remember.” Altair looked at him with a frown. “I’m still friends with the Altair who isn't an asshole,” and Altair cracked a helpless grin, splitting his blood covered face. 

“There are men here. Perhaps you can convince them I'm not mad either. We will be stronger as a front than just as myself.” Malik nodded. “I still must go kill Robert. Both to stop him from speaking to the Lionheart and finish my task so Al Mualim may see me in a better light when we speak with him.”

“The Holy Land will be better without him,” Malik agreed. He let go of Altair's hand and went to behind his desk. He picked out a dappled feather from a box and held it out for Altair to take.

Altair took it, “Now to fight my way through two armies, twice,” he said in dark humor.

“Not a problem for you,” Malik said.

Altair smiled slightly, a bit straind. “Of course not,” he said. “I can trust you, Malik, to go to Masyaf?”

“I said I would.”

Altair nodded gravely. “Then at least someone will confront Al Mualim if I fall.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Malik huffed. “Worry is to invite death into your heart.”

Altair blinked at him, “My heart is already dead,” he said and that made Malik sad. “Al Mualim ripped it out and threw it away.” He looked so sad when he said that. “So now there is only me,” he frowned with a sigh. “I must go. Meet me at Masyaf,” and he headed for the brilliant light outside of the bureau.

Malik wanted to stop him but he was too slow. Altair was already leaving. “Altair,” he called before he was gone. Altair paused at the edge of the light by didn't look back at him. “Come back,” he said his words heavy with meaning and knowing Altair felt those words. “Come back to me.”

Altair stood there a second, “Safety and peace, Malik,” and he went around the wall. Malik sighed and leaned against his desk. He grit his teeth a bit when a new Assassin appeared shortly after to give his report.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want the next chapter right now? New chapters are posted ahead of here on AO3 on my Patreon along with all my old work I've since deleted. You can find information about my Patreon [here](https://xazz.tumblr.com/post/185209007148/).
> 
> And if you can't become a patron you can still support me by just leaving a comment. Even if it's just "loved it!" it shows you appreciate me.


	12. I Miss You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. June turned into a crazy busy month for me @.@ hopefully some cute AltMal will make you forgive me

Twenty-six years

Like many nights Altair couldn't sleep. He wandered Masyaf like a ghost. Finally he stopped in front of the great window behind his desk and looked out across the mountain and the village below. The entire place was as silent as a dream and blue in the light of the waning crescent, the shadows a deep emptiness, the lights just barely enough to make out.

“Sir?” he didn't look over his shoulder. It was one of the guards. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. All is well, I am only restless,” Altair said, not looking at him.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you,” Altair said and listened to the sound of their retreating footfalls. He hadn't heard them approach. He hadn't been listening.

He watched the stars curve over the world, dancing and shining in the vibrant swirl and nebula of stars like glittering sand in a bucket. He'd moved to be seated at least, pulling the chair to the window. A cold, gray, false dawn crept over the edge of the mountains. He heard more footsteps come up behind him and he blinked in confusion when they placed a hand on his shoulder.

He looked and loneliness welled up in his chest seeing it was Malik. “What are you doing out here?” he asked gently,

“I’d ask the same,” he said.

“I needed some fresh air. One of the guards was worried and told me you'd been here all night.”

“I suppose I have,” Altair looked away from him. As usual Altair hated looking at him. Not really but Malik was just the point of all his failures and of everything he could never have, of everything he'd ever lost.

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Then you should get some rest, Altair. You'll be in no shape to work tomorrow if you're falling asleep at your desk,” Malik squeezed his shoulder.

Altair bowed his head a bit before nodding slowly. He knew Malik was right. He got up. “I’ll go do that then,” but he wasn't sure he would. He might just stay in his room and be awake.

They had to go the same way so there was no escaping him. Altair just didn't look at him.

Despite his new position Altair said still had his old room. They hadn't finished clearing out Rashid’s chambers for him to move in yet. It had become a wreck in the eight or so months he'd devolved into madness because of the Apple and Altair didn't want anything to be thrown away without him okaying it, just to make sure it wasn't important. It made preparing it slow going as he was only available for a few minutes each day to attend to that. He wasn't sure he wasn't dragging it out because he didn't want to leave the room that had become his home for eight years.

“Have you been sleeping, Altair?” Malik asked him as he opened the door, Altair paused and shrugged. “That isn't an answer.”

“When I can I do.”

The moments between that and Malik's next words seemed to stretch out like a finely pulled now string: drawn and almost tense. Or that was how it felt to Altair. He started when Malik touched his arm. “Do you want company? I know you have trouble sleeping alone,” he sounded genuinely concerned for him.

“I…”he looked at Malik's hand and slowly up Malik's arm to his face lit only by a distant lamp down the hall. But in Altair's sight he still had that soft Malik colored halo peering through his messy black hair and ringing the curve of his jaw and neck. He sighed and looked away, “Don’t do this to me,” he said.

“Do what?” Malik was confused.

“Act like you're not still mad at me.”

“I’m not,” Malik said. “I miss you,” he said softly like a secret.

“But I-” that was when it occurred to him. Rashid was dead. He was gone. The only reason for his change of behavior didn't exist anymore. There would be no more punishment if he didn't push Malik away. And he didn't want to. “I miss you too,” he said, looking at Malik. He almost looked away again. A new habit he'd have to break. He couldn't wait to break that habit.

“Do you want company?” Malik asked again.

“Only if you want to,” Altair opened the door for him. Malik smiled slightly and went inside. Altair followed and closed the door softly behind them.

—

The sun was high when Altair finally woke. He hadn't slept in in so long. The shadows were short but even in the shade there was no denying the heat of the late morning sun in spring. He was almost sweating pressed against a warm body and it took him a minute to remember what was happening.

Malik had his arm around him and he could tell by his breathing he wasn't asleep. Could also tell by the way he had his hand lightly running against the small of his back.

He hadn't slept so well in years. The silence of night was always difficult for him. That was why he liked having a roommate and hadn't even been happy when he'd been given a room to himself. But the sound of Malik's breathing, the beating of his heart in his ear, that was enough to lull him to sleep.

He didn't want to wake up yet. He was content pressed up against Malik. But he knew Malik knew he was awake. He couldn't put it off even if he wanted to. He moved his head and looked up from where it was tucked against Malik's chest. Malik was looking across the room at nothing but he could tell by his eyes he was thinking. Malik felt him move and looked down to see he was awake. “Slept better I assume?”

“Mhm,” Altair didn't want to push what was allowed and sat up, his back cracking and he stretched.

“Altair,” Malik said, he looked down at him, “we need to talk.” Altair sighed. He hated doing that. Especially about this. He knew it would be coming after last night. That didn't mean he was looking forward to it. “You owe me,” Malik said harshly.

“I know,” Altair said quietly, “I know.” He got out of bed to do his morning business and changed his clothes so he at least wasn't in the same shirt as yesterday. “Just stay here, I'll be back,” Altair said and opened the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry, I'm going to get us breakfast,” he said. Malik didn't argue that. He found a guard and asked them to bring a large meal up to his room. The guard was surprised by the request but agreed. Before Altair could get away they sheepishly asked if they should tell those helping him he was awake. Altair just said no and left. Malik was in different clothes when he returned. It took him a moment to realize they were his old clothes he'd left in Altair's room years ago and had never gotten back.

“Well? Where's the food?” Malik asked.

“Someone is bringing it,” Altair said and sat on his desk chair, Malik had taken a place on his bed and Altair wasn't about to shoo him off it.

“Ah, the perks of being Al Mualim I suppose,” Malik grinned at him. Altair winced at that. “What? You don't want that?”

Altair looked at Malik sadly, “That man was the source of all of my unhappiness, Malik. So no, I don't like that I now wear his title.”

“Oh. I'm sorry. I always thought you were his favorite-

“Exactly. I was. No one thinks what that actually means. What is expected when you are a favorite. It was perfection, or nothing. There was no room for failure and—” he sighed and put his face down in his hand.

“And what?” Malik prodded.

“He knew, Malik,” was all he said softly. “And that was a failure.”

Malik said nothing for a long time. That was all he needed to say. That was all Malik needed to know. Malik didn't need to know about his fear of punishment. Didn't need to know what punishment awaited him if he continued to fail.

“Huh… so that is why you changed so much.” Altair didn't look at him. He was ashamed. “I don't know what I expected but I hoped it was more than you being a favorite, Altair.”

Altair stood up so fast he knocked his chair over and loomed over Malik. “Do not speak to me like that,” he growled. “You don't know what he would have done to me-

“And what about me?” Malik demanded. “I left for six months and was excited to see you and I come home and you hate me? You didn't even tell me why, or what had happened. Just hey Malik you throw yourself off a cliff for all I care.”

“I wasn't allowed to. You don't get it Malik,” Altair insisted. “I wasn't allowed to even look at you when Rashid was alive. If he found out I was still talking to you after he made it very clear I was a disgrace to him he would have thrown me in the dungeon, and probably figured out some way to make sure you just disappeared. He certainly tried hard enough sending you to Jerusalem, hoping you'd get killed like all the other Dais he's sent there.”

“He wasn't Allah, Altair. He didn't know your every waking moment.”

“He would have found out some way,” Altair insisted. He believed that too, that even if it was behind locked doors Rashid would have found out Altair was seeing or communicating with Malik.

“You still could have figured out some way to tell me what had happened,” Malik had been relaxed before but he was sitting up and pointing at him. “I loved you and you just threw me away with no explanation!”

“Better than disobeying and probably get you killed!” Altair cried back.

“Well jokes on you: you almost did get me killed,” Malik hissed. Altair could see this was spiraling out of his control. Malik was just getting riled up and Altair knew there was no reasoning with Malik when he was in one of his tempers. Before Altair would always take the bait, argue a bullshit point just so Malik could blow up and they'd wrestle and punch each other a bit. Malik needed the release honestly or he just eventually boiled over into actual rage and not just petty arguments for the sake of arguments. Malik wasn't actually angry here. He was just trying to pick a fight because that was what he did when confronted with things that made him upset or he didn't like and couldn't change.

This time Altair didn't take the bait. He swallowed his tongue and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fight with you,” he said.

“Worried a cripple can take you?” Malik was still trying to bait him.

“No you asshole. I'm not going to do this if you're going to be argumentative about it just because you're angry about something you can't change,” Altair bit back.

There was a knock on the door, startling them both. “Ah— Al Mualim? I have that meal you requested.” It was the guard from earlier.

“Get off my bed,” Altair pushed Malik off his bed and onto the desk chair before going to get the door. Malik grumbled about it but moved, realizing he couldn't be in the bed of Al Mualim even at this hour. Altair got the door and took the two dishes from the guard. One was a large bowl of half cooled rice, the other had some vegetables, meat, pita, and humus. He thanked them and closed the door. “Eat something, you'll feel better,” he told Malik as he put the dishes down.

Malik grumbled but did help himself, using the pita as the main utensil. Altair didn't eat, he just leaned his hip against the table, looking down at Malik.

“You going to eat too? Or are you doing that annoying thing where you don't eat again?” Malik growled at him.

“I will once you're not so aggravated,” Altair said mildly. Malik didn't have a rebuttal. Malik wasn't even uncomfortable with Altair just watching him eat like others were. It had happened often enough, either Altair finished before him or just wasn't hungry, and Malik just ate by himself.

Malik gave him a look, slightly narrow eyed, “This is why you're so damn skinny,” he grunted. Meaning his general lack of appetite. Altair's body was just very efficient.

“Yes, but that's what you like so I don't know why you're complaining,” Altair said just to make Malik look away knowing he had no come back to that. Altair liked that his ears still turned pink at that. Malik would never get flustered like Altair did but he knew Malik was affected because of his red his ears got or- Malik rubbed his nose. That was his other fluster tell. It was cute.

“Now are we going to finish that conversation or are you going to keep avoiding me?” Malik asked once he'd finished. Altair had taken to nibbling on pita and humus because Malik's guilting glare did affect him.

Altair put his food down. “What you said earlier,” he said.

“Which part? I said a lot of-

“Stop,” Altair interrupted him. “I’m not going to argue with you. If you want that you can pick a fight with me downstairs in a training ring.”

Malik huffed. “Fine. I throw you on your ass later.”

Malik was still trying to bait him. Altair was sad Malik thought this was the only way he could talk to Altair because he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say or do other than lash out at the thing that made him so upset. “That you loved me,” Altair and Malik's ears turned bright red and he looked away sheepishly like he'd hoped Altair hadn't heard, or had forgotten. “I didn't love you,” and he held up a hand even as Malik looked about to really explode. “I do love you. And have the entire time Rashid kept us apart.” Malik had deflated in an instant and looked as though he didn't quite believe Altair.

Altair leaned over, ever so hesitantly, and softly pressed his lips against his. It was only for a second or two before Altair pulled away to gauge his reaction. Malik immediately kissed him back.

Altair had forgotten what perfect felt like.

Malik grabbed the front of his shirt so he couldn't even move. Altair didn't know where he'd go. All he wanted was to be right here.

The shadows had changed by the time Altair was aware of the outside world again. He couldn't remember how they'd made it back onto his bed, Altair straddling one of Malik’s thighs not thinking of anything else but the feel of Malik's lips and mouth. Even as he pulled away his mouth was drawn back down to press a few lazy kisses to his lips. He didn't sit up all the way and held himself up above Malik in what was a once familiar position and a grin slowly pulled itself across his lips. He'd missed smiling and that made him smile more.

Malik reached upand touched his face, his chin, the scar on his mouth with heavily calloused fingers. “You got a lot to make up for, you know,” Malik said and licked his lips.

“I’m good for it,” Altair promised and dropped a brief kiss against his mouth. “I love you,” he whispered. Malik's ears burned and he rubbed his nose.

Malik's mouth opened, hung there for a moment and then the rest of his face shared the same color as his ears when he said, “I love you too. Don't you ever do something like that to me again,” he added sternly.

Altair chuckled. “I won't,” he promised again. “No one controls me anymore except you,” he kissed Malik again softly. “And your wish is my command.”

“Don’t make me a promise like that. I'll hold you to it skinny boy,” Malik tapped his nose playfully, now also grinning like Altair was.

“You know I don't make promises I can't keep,” Altair said and pushed Malik's hand down and threaded his fingers through his against the bed spread. “I am yours, always, even when you thought I was lost,” he kissed Malik again.

They both jolted when there was a loud knocking on the door. “Altair, you in there?” it was one of his helpers. “I know you're awake. A guard said he brought you breakfast. Open the door if you're in there.” Altair looked down at Malik who just shook his head. Altair grinned smugly and ignored the man at the door to kiss him some more.

More knocking and asking if he was in there that was ignored. After a few more attempts it was determined he wasn't actually in his room and was hiding elsewhere in Masyaf and they left. “That is going to get annoying,” Malik said.

“Ah yes, the perks of being Al Mualim,” Altair rolled his eyes. “Now you see why I get such shit sleep with them bothering me.”

“Well… when you're with me I don't want you taking any time for them,” Malik said.

Altair chuckled. “As jealous of my time as ever. Never change, Malik,” he grinned.

“I’m way more interesting than them,” he insisted.

“You are,” Altair agreed, “You’ll hear no disagreements from me on that.”

“Promise me,” Malik tugged on the front of his shirt a bit. “I’m first,” and he gave Altair such a cute, pleading, innocent, look. Or as much as someone who’d had Malik’s life could have.

“You will always be first, that I promise,” Altair said. Now he had a good reason to tell others to fuck off when they interupted. Or tried to.

“Good,” Malik said, smiling up at him. “I love you. I missed you so much,” his hand was on Altair's chest.

“So did I,” Altair said.

Malik then got a look in his eye, “I also missed some other stuff.”

Altair wasn't quite sure where this was going. “Oh?” he asked. Then Malik started to undo the lacing on the front of his tunic, “Oh,” and Altair smirked. “I see. Yes, I think something can be done about that,” he assured Malik, smirk firmly affixed on his mouth.

“Good,” Malik said, his lips curled in his own cunning smirk. Altair kissed him once more before yanking his tunic off. “Oh, yeah… lot to make up for,” Malik said, touching his naked skin,

“We have time,” Altair said. “We have plenty of time.”

“Too bad I'm impatient!” Malik cried and that made Altair laugh. Allah, he hadn't laughed in so long. It felt so wonderful. Altair reply was just to kiss him again, Malik sighing into his mouth. They'd be here the rest of the day and Altair couldn't find it in himself to even start to mind in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an extra saucy nsfw ending of this chapter available on my Patreon for $5 supporters. You can find information about my Patreon [here](https://xazz.tumblr.com/post/185209007148/).
> 
> And if you can't become a patron you can still support me by just leaving a comment. Even if it's just "loved it!" it shows you appreciate me.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story don't hesitate to leave a comment! It makes me feel appreciated and lets me know you liked the story. Even a simple 'loved it!' brightens my day.


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